


Missed Shot

by whothebuckisfucky



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anti-Hero Bucky, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, Soulmates, aka two dumb depressed bitches learning to get along, but also just kinda going off the rails however it goes, initial soulmate rejection, kind of a mix between mcu and comics, minor Stony, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-13 18:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21498304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whothebuckisfucky/pseuds/whothebuckisfucky
Summary: Soulmate AU where making eye contact with their soulmate causes their chest to glow“Clint?” Comes through in a more concerned voice, knowing his answer had been delayed far too long, shaking head like it would rid him of the thoughts going through it, but at least finding it in him to snap out of it enough to actually give a response.A hand rubs down his face with a groan before pressing the comm, “No, I missed.”“You missed?”Yeah, he knows.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 21
Kudos: 77





	1. Missing The Mark

“The ghost is acting up again.” 

Somehow Clint knew that’s where this briefing was going to start. This guy had been a growing problem over a couple of months now, between stealing a  _ lot  _ of information to stirring up a lot of not too nice people and organized crime, it didn't come as any sort of jarring surprise. “I hate to cut the speech short, Cap, but why exactly is that our problem?” 

Blue eyes flick to blue, giving what would be considered a tired sigh, if the man even got tired, before continuing on to get to the point, “He’s snagged a number of classified SHIELD files. Mostly personnel files. We aren’t sure of his motives still, but it's currently in our best interest to get him back here.” 

Yeah, okay, that did sound like it would make it their problem. “So what’s the plan on catching him?”

\---

How he got stuck with being where the current nuisance of the day was being led for was beyond him. His spot on the rooftop before wasn’t gonna be able to cut it either with how damn fast this guy was, finding a spot hunkered in the back alley that Cap and Stark were trying to corral him towards. It was a problem enough that he had already managed to disarm Steve and use the shield to block what Tony was using against him. 

The plan didn’t go as, well, planned. Not at all. It was supposed to be a lot simpler to set the trap with a staged buyer for the information, but as soon as suspicions grew on being watched, the guy had bolted. 

It was a  _ little  _ unexpected when the ghost decided to reveal he could not only match Steve’s speed but pick up faster with being pursued. And it didn’t sound like he was easing up on his fight to get away with the communications coming through between the two men. This was a mess. They had underestimated the guy by a longshot. This was a  _ big _ mess. 

The paths the man was taking made it clear that he knew the area. That wasn’t great for them, yet highly increased the chances of running him down this way by a whole lot. A dark back alley wasn’t the most ideal spot to get a shot at someone proving he could take on two Avengers, not to mention those two Avengers  _ kinda  _ being Captain America and Iron Man. It also didn’t help that the spot he had decided to plant himself smelled like someone peed there on the regular, making him wish this guy would hurry it up.

“Heading your way,” comes over the earpiece to Clint in a warning, giving him the heads-up to draw back bow and ready himself. 

It doesn’t take more than a few seconds longer than the warning before the figure skids himself around the corner, at  _ least _ having dropped Steve’s shield by that point, providing a much cleaner shot for him. The dark hanging shadows allowed enough cover for the target to find his way closer. He waits the seconds it takes for the figure to draw closer, wanting the cleanest shot possible, before finding the other man skids himself to a halt at finally catching the outline of the archer waiting for him. He had an extremely clear shot at this distance.

There’s barely a moment of the guy frantically looking for a way up, the dim light from the road behind him cast barely enough to show covered face, only catching the sight of eyes before they lock onto his for the next second they give each other. 

Clint’s a split second from releasing the arrows to hit his mark before arm freezes, eyes moving down from where they had caught sight of the eyes and widening at seeing the bright red color of a glow from the other man’s chest. Maybe his first few thoughts were it was some type of weapon, anything malicious to try to rationalize this, but it’s clear by the frozen state of the other that he was seeing the same glow. 

“Barton, did you get him?” Breaks the trance, firing arrow, and making his mark‒ right in the wall beside the man, the only place on him hit being a deep knick across an arm. The fired arrow seems to break the same frozen thought process in the same man that he was supposed to be taking down right now to bring in. A few more seconds pass between them, bow still held out in the position to fire but not drawing another arrow. 

Sounds of Stark’s suit nearby is enough to snap the other out of it, blue eyes almost helplessly watching the glow fade out as he darts past, scrambling his way out of sight without pursuit. 

“ _ Clint? _ ” Comes through in a more concerned voice, knowing his answer had been delayed far too long, shaking head like it would rid him of the thoughts going through it, but at least finding it in him to snap out of it enough to actually give a response. 

A hand rubs down his face with a groan before pressing the comm, “No, I missed.” 

“You  _ missed? _ ”

Yeah, he knows. 

“I wasn’t expecting him to go over the speed limit running.” He tries to deflect, his real reasoning‒ could he say was ridiculous? “I barely got his arm.” Is all he’s willing to admit right now, at a loss really. He knew he wouldn’t be able to explain himself at the debrief of what just happened, only holding onto the hope that he wouldn’t be pressured too much since he had kicked the other two’s asses. 

“I don’t know where he went.” 

“We’ll do a sweep, but‒ I think we need to rethink tactics,” Steve relays to the other two. 

The blonde really was having trouble wrapping his mind around what had just happened as he jogs to go meet up with the other two. He just met his  _ soulmate _ . In a back alley that smelled horrible. Where he was about to shoot an arrow into his kneecap. To take him in for some serious crimes regarding information theft. 

This was a mess, and he felt like he was just getting himself deeper into it already. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed!
> 
> I have never written Clint before, so this'll be a fun ride. Also hopefully will have longer chapters the more I get into it!


	2. Panicking

Buck really needed to learn to listen to his gut better. The sudden buyer had been sketchy, but he had agreed anyways. The person hadn’t seemed tense, giving him a false sense of security that he felt he should know better than to fall for by that point. It hadn’t become apparent until he picked up on how much they were stalling. 

He was about to hand over the drive to actually get paid and get out of there when his gut told him something was very wrong. That sense of being watched was never wrong with him, starting to question the deal just a little more. One slip up was enough to send him running, and to his misfortune, two Avengers chasing.

Those were the  _ last  _ people he needed after him, already having accumulated a large list of others. He knew it was the SHIELD files that managed to put him in their sights. He also, unfortunately, was painfully aware of how much fighting off the two would put him even more on their radar. But that was his only choice.

What he didn’t expect to happen was there to be a third Avenger waiting. And it wasn’t the last surprise either. 

His heart felt as though it stopped beating when their eyes met and a glow radiated from the man’s chest. A sort of deep purple filled his vision as eyes looked down to the glow before back upwards. 

_ Oh no. _

The arrow slicing open his arm gets a jolt as his mind scrambled desperately to pull itself back to reality, feeling the hot swell of blood coming to the surface of his skin and bleeding into the thick fabric of his clothing. It still wasn’t enough to get him moving yet, not seeing the signs of being fired at again, and honestly needing the time the Avenger was giving him to get a cap on his thoughts and get the feeling that his heart was, indeed, still beating. 

It wasn’t apparent how long they were both standing and staring until panic spikes his adrenaline back into full gear at hearing Iron Man nearing their spot. There’s no indication at all that Hawkeye was actually going to shoot him now that he was a stilled target, getting the hint that he wasn’t  _ going  _ to at all. 

He takes his chance to bolt again, even if he had a lot overwhelming him all of a sudden. Shit. He books it back through back alleys, getting far enough to confidently pull the mask from lower face to cram into a pocket, sliding hands in coat pockets with it and heading to walk back on the sidewalk. 

The sting in his arm worsened against the cold air, hand curling tight against the mask in his pocket as blood seeped outwards. Shit. Shit shit shit. 

He doesn’t  _ let  _ himself think about any of the situation that had just unfolded, just focusing on staying alert until he got back to his apartment. There’s enough confidence that he wasn’t followed to go on inside and get into his apartment. 

The two cats greeting him at the door do good enough to hold off his thoughts for a little longer, moving his way towards his bedroom to get clothes off. Eyes trail to the cut as he strips down to just underwear, frowning at seeing the bleeding still trying to push out past what was drying. He hated to think where that arrow would’ve gone if he hadn’t‒

Oh no. 

No no no.

His soulmate could  _ not  _ be an Avenger. Fuck. 

Feet move himself into the bathroom, washing the wound off before moving to disinfect it, hissing at the sting, but mind swimming in a sort of panicked confusion to distract from the pain. Even if he would much rather have the pain instead. He tries to push down the sick feeling swelling in his throat, deciding on a quick shower before he patched himself up. 

His muddled mind zones out his actions until he snaps back out of it halfway through his shower, huffing loudly. Of course, his soulmate was an Avenger. When did luck ever have his interests in mind? He would have much rather it be some random person on the other side of the world that he was never destined to meet. But no. It just  _ had  _ to be someone about to shoot him with an arrow. Christ. 

He can’t help a laugh, pushing back wet strands of long hair after it was washed out. God, it was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. His soulmate was a fucking Avenger.

It made it worse that Hawkeye hadn’t taken him down, where he would have likely ended up in who knows what sort of custody. Did he think he owed Bucky something for him being his soulmate? He knew it wouldn’t be the other way around. He couldn't let it be. It was damn shocking, but he couldn’t let that get in the way of what he was doing. The last thing he needed was to give the guy a chance to use that their souls were  _ bonded  _ to catch him. 

His mind was racing, all over the place, and in what he could only think of as going through the stages to accept it just so he could push the fact back away.

Eyes look down to his own chest as he steps out of the shower again, hand pressing against where his own soul would have  _ had _ to of shown through for the other. He holds it there, staring a moment before the red of blood catches his attention again, groaning and moving to go take care of that finally. 

Bucky had a  _ lot  _ to do and think through, but he wasn’t looking for processing this whole soulmate thing to be one on the list. 


	3. Coffee, Eggs, and Ham

Coffee, eggs, and ham. That’s all he needed to grab. It should have been pretty simple and quick. 

The only problem was, they were out of his usual grab for coffee grounds. And there were like a hundred choices. While it would be smarter just to pick something and go, coffee was  _ kind of  _ important to be tolerable. 

Clint took a step back to look over the large choice of what to get, frowning in a small amount of frustration. There were too many choices that he didn’t feel like making. He’s about to just grab something that looked almost bought out before another man starts down the aisle, deciding to see what he got to maybe help his decision.

He backs off just a little more when the man nears his spot and slows to a stop to start looking over the shelves, eyes finding their way to the silver metal of a prosthetic arm, attention lingering a long moment before tearing eyes away to not be rude. 

Damn, was this guy muscular too. He’s getting a look at him since his back was to him, hoping he wouldn’t turn any, just furrowing eyebrows slightly at the definition of muscles on his back and what he could see of shoulders through long hair. He was a little on the short side, but wouldn’t put it past him to be able to break him in half. Sheesh. 

His attention flicks momentarily to a bandage wrapped around his right arm, not thinking much of it as he tries to force himself to stop eyeing the stranger. 

Still, while he’s being nosy, he’s looking at the basket clutched by hand, a little amused to see what he assumed was good quality cat food alongside cheap human food. He couldn’t blame him too much he supposed, but it made it less likely he was going to pick out any good coffee. 

The blonde meanders his way a little farther to get more out of the man’s space, deciding to look over the coffee choices instead of some guy’s back and arms. 

He decides on his idea before on just picking something that was selling, about to put it in his own basket before moving gets head to turn towards the other. 

Oh, he was pretty. And struggling to get the container he wanted off the top shelf, tiptoeing only getting fingertips to touch the package. It was easy to tell the frustration from the side view he was getting of a pout and furrow of eyebrows. 

Fingers drop his own coffee package into the basket with the rest of his stuff before moving over to help the struggling guy. “Here, let me get that for you.” 

It didn’t take a direct look over to see the flare of pink pop up on the man’s face, stepping back out of the way as Clint reached past him to easily grab what he had been struggling to get. 

“Thanks, guess they moved what I like on the top shelf.” Comes out with an awkward laugh following. 

“Lucky for you, someone that can reach has been trying to decide on what to get for five minutes.” He says, handing the package over to him and getting a better look at him. Damn, Muscles here sure was gorgeous now that he was getting a straight-on view of him.

“Well, I’m glad of that,” Is said back with another soft laugh as he puts the package down with the rest of his stuff. “Thank you,” He says, eyes flicking up to meet Clint’s. 

Damn. Those eyes added on to already thinking about how attractive this guy was. His gawking gets interrupted when a look of panic spreads on his face, looking back behind him first before back to the guy, eyes instantly going down to the bright glow emitted from the other man’s chest. 

Oh. 

_ Oh.  _

This was‒ Oh man. 

A sense of panic comes over himself as he looks back to those deep blue eyes, seeing them wide and the man starting to back away. Out of what he could only assume was sheer stupidity, a hand moves to grab the man’s arm to stop him, uttering a quick, “Hey wait,” without much thought to what the hell he was doing. 

The rash act is being met with an unexpected, but likely deserved, punch straight to his jaw, hitting a point to knock him out immediately. 

Eyes flutter open at a hand lightly shaking him, seeing a few pairs of feet in front of him as he slowly regains consciousness. A groan rumbles from his throat as he moves to sit up more, shooing away the concerned people crowding him, and recognizing he was on the floor in the store. Shit. 

He’s rubbing jaw, feeling the swell of a bruise forming in the spot, “‘m okay, ‘m good.” He tries to convince the worried questions, looking around for the man, but not seeing a trace of him. Not that he was expecting to after being clocked square in the jaw by the guy. Shit. 

The more he came to, the more he realizes how  _ stupid  _ grabbing him had been. But damn, did he have to punch him with the metal one? He’s also realizing that his jaw is the only thing that does hurt, unsure if he crumpled or if the guy had caught him to keep the noise down. Dammit. That was twice now that he had gotten away from him because he was a dumbass that didn’t know how to handle being face to face with his soulmate. 

With the help of an overly concerned worker, he gets back up onto feet, explaining away that he had tripped over himself and hit his jaw on the fall, unsure how reasonable it sounded, but working enough to get the people to go off on their way. He looks around, his basket having been placed near where he’d been knocked clean out. 

He knew what his soulmate looked like now, which while now knowing that he was gorgeous, he also had information that his teammates were looking for. This guy wasn’t someone to be protected with the information he had stolen and the trouble he had given them days before. Shit. It was the right thing to do to come clean to them, but some part of him wanted to be selfish for once and try to find out more on his own, to protect the guy just a little longer to sort himself out. 

This was a mess. 

Clint lets out a huff of a breath, rubbing at jaw again as he headed to checkout, deciding that he needed coffee before actually making his decision on any of this. 


	4. Fate In A Grocery Store

The last thing he needed to get and of  _ course  _ it had to be all the way up on the top shelf. Why couldn’t all stores have stuff in the same place? If not for the other person on the aisle, he was sure that there’d be more cursing and trying to climb the shelf involved. Instead, he was just struggling until he successfully grabbed it or the guy left, really betting on the latter to happen first. 

What Bucky hadn’t been expecting was for the man to offer his help to get it down for him, feeling the flare-up on his cheeks. At least he was tall enough to get it down easily, looking over at him a quick moment. Blue eyes catch on the guy’s arm reaching before flicking more sideways to look at what he could see of his face, then backing off to get out of the man’s way.

Wasn’t he a cutie? 

But he could’ve sworn he had seen this guy before, he just couldn’t seem to put his finger on it. 

Eyes go down to the packaging handed over after a bit of small talk, thanking him with sincere appreciation as he moved to put it in his basket, careful of the bread in it. It sure saved him the trouble of trying to scale a shelf. 

Bucky’s attention moves back up to meet the stranger’s, hoping the warmth on his face pretty instantly at getting a better look at him wasn’t showing in a blush. Man, if only nice, cute men could help him more often. 

His infatuation was short-lived when the eye contact seems to spark a glow down on the man’s chest. Eyes flick momentarily to the glow before back up to him, telling by the confused expression coming to the other’s expression, that his own was showing the sudden panic he felt squeezing his chest.

Oh shit. That’s how he knew his face. 

The panic swimming in him kicks up his flight response, starting to back away from  _ Hawkeye _ with no clear idea what the hell he was going to actually do. It seems that Barton is deciding for him with the hand grabbing onto his right arm, wide eyes going back up to him. The words aren’t registering as the right intention they were spoken, the flight response kicking over to the fight response, slugging him without thinking twice about it. 

Hands frantically move to grab the guy before he could crumple, dropping his own basket to try to snag the Avenger’s since‒ well, the guy had eggs in his. 

He grunts at the weight being put against him with the unconscious man, arm hugged around his back to attempt to balance him. Shit. Why the fuck did he just punch this dude? Well, he knew why, but that was extremely stupid. He’s looking around a little before moving to carefully lower Hawkeye onto his stomach and place the basket down beside him. 

Attention flicks over him, backing off and looking around another time before snagging his own basket again and hastily making his way towards a front register. 

“Hi, excuse me.” He says before pointing down at the aisle, “I was going to grab coffee grounds, but there’s some guy on the floor. I think he’s unconscious.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie. He just wouldn’t include the part that he had been the culprit that socked him. And now that he thought about it, he felt a tad bit bad for hitting him with the metal one. 

The employee hurries off to go see what he was talking about as Buck reasons with himself that he had to punch him with the left hand since the dumbass had grabbed his right one. He was still a little panicky as he goes through the self check-out to avoid any more interactions, getting his stuff and hurrying out, hoping the Avenger wouldn’t come to before he got out of there. 

The more he turned over what had just happened, the tighter his chest felt. An  _ Avenger  _ knew his face now, and just so happened to be the one that was his soulmate. Fuck! This could mess up everything, not to mention put him in prison, which would likely lead him right back into the hands of the people he was working so hard to out. His only hope for if this led him down an extremely bad road was that maybe Barton would help him for the whole soulmate thing. In no way did he want to use the guy, but‒ he’d let him go once and, honestly, now that he was thinking about it, the guy hadn’t seemed like he was looking to confront him more than likely what their soul issue was. 

Shit. 

This was a lot to think about. And not something he wanted to. 

He couldn’t compromise himself, not even for his soulmate. He didn’t know him more than what the public knew, and he intended to keep it that way, just hoping to avoid the man from that point on. 

Even if fate acted as though it had other plans for the two of them. 

The thought of that made his stomach twist so much worse. He was so out of the area where he lived to go  _ get  _ something that day, deciding to stop in a store that he knew was cheaper than the one closer home. For fuck’s sake, he was all the way in Brooklyn instead of Manhattan! It was too much of a coincidence for his liking, never really believing that coincidences happened without a purpose. He just didn’t know if that purpose was good or bad for him right now. 

He could honestly throw up, or cry, right about then, stressed and heavy with worry about how much of a thorn in his side this whole situation was going to be. All he knew currently was the Avengers were after him, one was his soulmate, and the way things were going, there was an unfortunately high chance that he was going to run into Hawkeye again. 

Shit. 

This was going to be a long walk home. 


	5. Confession

There was no  _ way  _ he could keep this from the rest of the team. He wouldn’t feel right doing so to people that trusted him. Just because his head was jumbled, didn’t mean he didn’t owe the others the truth. He wished he could blame his distracted thoughts on being punched earlier in the day, but it was easy enough to see through his own lie to know the reason was from the person that had done the punching. 

His confession wasn’t going to the whole team yet, just wanting to confide in one of the two that had found their soulmate in the hopes that maybe he could help him with this turmoil. And that same person was giving a bit of a judgemental look to the surely nasty looking bruise, but as always, being too polite to mention it right off the bat. 

“Thanks for meeting me, Cap.” Sure that his voice was giving away the exhaustion he was feeling right now. Mostly mentally, but a nap could always do him some good. 

“No offense, but you asking to speak to me alone usually means something pressing,” Steve speaks back, a hint of a smirk pulling at his lip with that. Eyes flick to the bruise once more before up to blues, giving a nod to let him go on with it. 

“Right,” Clint mutters before clearing throat, “It’s about the ghost. I saw him without the mask on.” 

Steve cocks an eyebrow in interest, “Are you positive it was him?” 

“Yeah. Because that’s what I need to talk to you about.” Eyes finding their way elsewhere for a good moment before looking back. “I let him go the first time. Yes, I did miss my shot, but I think it was on purpose on my part.”

“What? Why?” Steve’s frowning, giving that good ole look of judgment that usually found its way on his face looking at Tony. But this time it was unquestionably directed at him. Yikes.

Clint’s huffing a quiet sigh, the corner of his mouth pulling back in an uncertain way for a hint of a moment as he tried to think how to word this. “I was about to fire and he stopped, then we managed to catch each other’s eye.‒ His chest started glowing. I don’t know if I meant to miss the shot after, but I was just so,” and shaking head, “Caught up in what that meant. I let him go.” 

Steve listens, expression slowly softening away from the disappointment to something he wasn’t sure of if it was some sort of sympathy or just another form of disappointment. A good amount of silence stretches between them before the Captain finally finds what words he wanted to say, “Why did you wait this long to say anything?” 

Yeah, that was a fair question, but one that he didn’t exactly know the answer to. “I don’t know.” He responds, though quickly trying to find some sort of explanation to go with it, “I just know after I saw him today that it wasn’t right to hide it from my team. Guess he punched some sense into me.” 

A small laugh is huffed at that one, giving a look that made Clint feel like Steve thought he deserved it. That was fair. “Where did you see him?” 

“I was at a grocery store near my apartment building and he was struggling to get something off the top shelf. Didn’t recognize him or anything until I helped him get it down and he looked me in the eyes again. He saw the glow before I did.” He explains. 

“He punched you in a grocery store?” 

“Yeah. I grabbed his arm and he knocked me out cold.” 

Steve just blinks a couple of times at that before eyebrows push together with a lean back and long sigh. There might be the urge to ask him if he was jealous he didn’t get to do that to his own soulmate when he and Stark found out but figured that it wasn’t the time.

“You got a good look at the guy?”

“I did. He looked maybe thirty at the oldest and had a metal arm.” 

Now that seemed to get Steve’s attention a bit more. He thinks over it a good minute, hand covering mouth before sliding it down to rest on the table. “You know I’m going to have to share this with the rest of the team, right?” 

“Yeah. I just wanted to run it by you first. You kind of have the right moral compass compared to the rest,” Clint quietly snorts, unsure what else he expected from him.

Cap gives a good moment before another sigh comes from him, unsure what that one meant when he already made his disappointment clear. “Do you think you can find him on your own?” 

Now, that was more unexpected. “I wouldn’t know where to begin to look. But I’m sure there’s not  _ that  _ many people walking around with a robot arm.” 

“Not many people who’s chest would glow with you looking at them either.” Steve stays, leaning a little more forward again. “Tony and I have been talking about this whole situation, and something seems up about it. Personnel files are an odd thing to steal with everything else he’s been snagging. He’s been dragging up a lot of corruption. Maybe that’s still his goal, but we don’t know that for sure.” 

The explanation only gets more confusion out of Clint, only giving a nod for the Captain to continue what he was getting at.

“We don’t currently want to bring him in,” Steve says, getting to his point. “But we do need information. Or more, clarification. Maybe if you can earn his trust a little better with your‒ connection and just get the answers, we can leave him alone depending on the answer. I’m not saying to use him. Just to find him and see how it goes.” 

“You’re asking me to try to earn the trust of someone who punched me out cold in a grocery store?” 

“You  _ did  _ let him go the first time.” 

For Captain America to be the list of noble things that he was, he was also a little shit. There’s a frown from the archer at him for that before huffing and nodding. “Fine. Okay. I’ll try to look for him.”

This was  _ not  _ how he expected the conversation to go. He could be thankful that it hadn’t gone worse, but. He had to go track this ghost down, who made it very obvious that he didn’t want to be found. Maybe if he had kept his mouth shut a little longer this would be more of a team effort instead of individual, yet‒ Clint knew he deserved it though for not being upfront to begin with. Great. How hard could it be to find his metal armed soulmate in New York? 


	6. Fate Strikes Again

New York City wasn’t exactly a place he loved to be in. Wasn’t even one he  _ liked _ to be in. But it offered a safe cushion of high population of normal people and dense population not-so-normal heroes. It was where he could do most of his work too. Find enough information-hungry buyers to pay his bills. No, Bucky didn’t like being in the city, but he needed to be. 

Still, there was a certain beauty of watching it light up at night. It was a view he could appreciate. At least it was something to ease that longing to see the stars back home. 

A gloved hand slowly moves up to push the hood off of his head, confident that no one could see him this high up, but not confident enough to take his mask off. The air was cooling a lot faster with midnight passing, finding it comfortable settled in his spot. He felt as though he deserved the nice night with having another successful deal a couple of hours earlier. It wasn’t as much as he had hoped for the trouble he had gone through but had decided not to argue since it was enough to pay his rent and bills in the coming week. 

Minutes pass into another hour as he stays and just watches the life out below. His enjoyment comes to an end as the beginnings of dizziness start to take over, huffing in irritation. Dammit not now. 

There’s a debate about whether to just take a cab home or risk the walk, very unhappy about being so high up right now with his body acting up now of all times. At least it hadn't been during the deal.

Hands push himself up, backing off from the edge before a sound behind him gets his body to lock up. His fingers slowly hook a knife off hip, making a slow movement to unsheath it before a much faster slice outwards, wrist getting blocked immediately. Eyes meet the other’s, a glow starting between them within seconds. 

Without much more hesitation than it takes to process  _ who  _ had snuck up on him, Buck slams foot into Hawkeye’s middle. There’s the grunt and gasp of half knocking the wind out of him as he smashes back into the roof. The same hand slips the knife back in its holster before bolting for the fire escape back down, not giving the guy the chance to say or do anything more to him. 

By the time he gets to the bottom, there’s the clang of Barton starting down at the top, calling out a, “Wait! Hey!” after him. 

Bucky takes off running down the back alley and making a turn, hearing a lot of‒ uncertain clanging of the guy trying to get down and give chase. His own legs keep moving, getting out of between the buildings and crossing the street, seemingly getting honked at by every car  _ on  _ that road in the two seconds it took to cross. 

He’s making a jump on a fenced back way to scramble up and dart down it, turning the corner and groaning at the second fence there. 

The sudden exertion is not doing well for his condition, having to stop and lean a hand against the wall. Fuck. His head was starting to spin, already feeling the goddamn fever kicking up. Not now. Fuck not now. 

Blue eyes turn to the sound of the chainlink from where he had come from, slowly starting to pant more before clawing the mask off mouth and nose. 

“Hey. Just‒ Wait.” Comes from behind him, tensing up at the Avenger having caught up to him so quickly. 

“ ‘m waitin’,” Buck mumbles out, squeezing eyes shut a good moment to try to push down the dizziness taking over him. Shit. He slowly pushes off the wall with a bit of a stumble and swallow as he makes himself turn to face the other man. Now that he had stopped for the moment, he could clearly see the absence of the bow this time, confusion trying to cloud head with the dizziness. 

“I’m not trying to take you in. I just need to talk. I promise,” Hawkeye gets out as he slowly starts to close the distance. The closer he gets, the more his pace slows down, blue eyes flicking up momentarily to blue and finding the concern in them. “Hey, are‒ you okay? You’re not looking too good there.” 

Buck was feeling worse by the second, having to take to leaning back against the wall. If this didn’t prove that fate wanted them to face each other, then he would just blame it on shit luck. There’s a swallow, slowly putting the mask in a pocket before panting a few breaths. 

“I’ll make you a deal,” Bucky says, voice quieter than before, “I’ll talk to you, but‒ help me home first.” 

No, he didn’t want this guy knowing where he lived, but he also didn’t want to end up in a hospital if he got worse before he could get home to just let the episode pass. Dammit. 

“Okay, uh, okay.” 

Buck half watches the Avenger close the distance, seeing a lot of hesitance, and expecting that he figured this was some sort of trick. He honestly wished it was. There’s a momentary tense up at feeling an arm loop around his back, slowly shifting his own wait to lean into the taller man and grip right hand on his back. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Jus’‒ somethin’ that happens. It’ll pass ‘n a few hours,” Buck answers quietly, moving as Barton does. He just needed to get home and lie down. Shit. He’s compliantly being walked back to the gate he had jumped, hearing the inhale of the other about to say something before he reaches his metal hand out and yanks the lock off, shutting the other up. 

“Should I flag a cab?” 

Buck nods a little, his weight pressing into the other man more as another wave of dizziness almost knocks him off his feet. His panting slows to more heavy breaths as they stop, waiting for Barton to flag someone down before moving with him to actually get in the vehicle, needing a large amount of help honestly.

Bucky’s able to get out his address for the apartment building in Hell’s Kitchen, just hoping they could get there while he was still able to get up the stairs without too much help. Fuck. He feels an arm loop around him again as they start to move, leaning into the other man with soft pants, a little out of it to listen to the excuse-making the Avenger was trying to do to the questions from the driver. He just needed to get home, not caring about the man he was taking back with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I write this in November? Yes, I did. Did I forget to edit and post it until January? Yes, I also did that. Oops. 
> 
> The next chapter is in the works though since I had started it in November too at least!


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